


He Smelled Like Home [Sterek Trope Reversal]

by Thomaddicted



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Clueless Derek Hale, Deputy Derek Hale, Frenemies Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Helpful Peter Hale, Homophobia, Hunter Gerard Argent, Hunting, Like Scott McCall is a BIG slut, M/M, Mayor Rafael McCall, Murder, Mysteries, Officer Jordan Parrish, Protective Derek Hale, Seduction, Sheriff Hale, Slutty Scott McCall, Soft Peter Hale, Sterek Trope Reversal 2018, Surprise Reveals, Teen Wolf, Werewolf Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Werewolves Are Considered Dangerous, Wolf Erica Reyes, Wolf Isaac Lahey, Wolf Vernon Boyd, but lots of smuttiness, forgive me for writing this sin, no explicit sex, sterek, werewolves are known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15939089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomaddicted/pseuds/Thomaddicted
Summary: Deputy Derek Hale is sent to the preserve to shoo away some kids, but instead finds a seductive, crooked jawed boy, a white wolf, the remains of a burned out mansion, and more questions than he started the day with.Written for the Sterek Trope Reversal Event, but I don't... I don't know if it fits...but I guess I'll post it.Fuck it.





	He Smelled Like Home [Sterek Trope Reversal]

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know how well this works, but I'm still kinda proud of it.
> 
> The prompt was for trope reversal. So, Wolf Stiles, whose rich family dies. Modest Deputy Derek Hale. So I also reversed a lot of the characters as well, making Scott the rich (slutty) son of Mayor McCall, Peter Hale is a helpful sweetheart with zero ulterior motives, and Gerard.... well, you'll see...
> 
> Also, Scott and Stiles are sixteen, so if you object to Scott throwing himself at older men, then skip this fic. Same thing with Stiles.  
> Also, trigger warning for a very homophobic Gerard Argent, even though he gets what's coming to him. (Brutally)

"DEREK!" 

The voice of Sheriff Robert Hale boomed through the Beacon Hills Police Department. 

Deputy Derek Hale looked up from his paperwork. His olive green eyes gazed wearily over his monitor. He rose from his desk, and made his way to the Sheriff's office.

"Yes, Sir?" 

Derek disliked the way that his father's voice boomed. It meant something bad was happening.

"Deputy, I need you to go down to the preserve, and handle a disturbance call."

"Yes Sir." 

Derek nodded, dutifully, entering the office.

"Nature of the disturbance?"

"I don't know, some kids are fucking around out there, you know how it is." 

Derek sighed.

"I don't know why people still insist on going down there. It IS private property." 

Sheriff Hale shook his head. 

"They think they're going to see ghosts, or find bones, or whatever else they think they're going to find. Never mind it's been a decade since that damn fire."

"I'll handle it, Sir." 

Derek nodded, and departed from the station in his newly issued Beacon County Police SUV.

 

Driving down to the preserve, he felt a strange sensation. For a moment, as he drove around, he thought he saw a large black dog running the length, behind the trees.

Which would be likely, but it wouldn't be keeping up with the SUV.

Not that it even mattered. Tons of weird shit happened in Beacon Hills, as it was. 

It seemed like every other day, the force was reporting to the scene of some odd crime. 

Break ins, but with no human prints. Strange noise complaints of animals that made no sense. 

Unless there was some new breed of something living in Beacon Hills. 

Then there was the sensation he'd had recently. In the last few months, he felt like he was being watched.

Whenever the deputy turned around, or even tried to catch a glimpse of something in the shadows, there was nothing to be found.

Not that he wouldn't mind the company. 

In the last year, he had a failed relationship with a woman, Kate, which ended badly. 

Living in a small town, the only thing worse was that he often saw her around often. He had begged to stay locked in on paperwork, but his father always sent him out.

"No sense letting a woman ruin your life. Gotta get out there, and handle things, Derek." 

Derek often had problems with the way his father handled, and shorthanded things.

His father was raised in a different time, by men of a different time. He found himself bristling at some of the archaic views his father still held.

It also prevented him from sharing other things about Derek's life.

 

Derek pulled the SUV into the preserve, and locked it. He crunched his way through the dead, fallen leaves, and headed into the woods, in the direction of the shell of the Stilinski house.

Walking through the preserve, the feeling returned. The feeling of eyes watching him. It grew to be unnerving, but despite the sweaty feeling, he pressed on.

The late morning sun filtered into the trees, creating kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor of the forest. 

He stood still in the middle of the thick wood.

He heard something. He knew it. 

A trickle of sweat ran down his temple, past his jaw, down his neck. 

He could feel sweat crawling down his ribs, dripping from his armpits.

snap

Derek scanned the area. Hand on his gun. 

Snap

"Whomever you are. You are trespassing on private property."

Derek unsnapped his holster, listening for more sounds. His hand gripped the handle.

SNAP

Derek pulled his gun, and spun around from where he heard the sound from behind him. 

A short, brown skinned boy stood just past the treeline in the woods, naked. His crooked jaw contained a sly, snarky smile, directed at the deputy.

"Don't shoot." he grinned, stepping forward.

The boy emerged from the treeline, naked as the day he was born. 

His lean, muscled chest, and tight, ridged abs were distracting. His muscled arms were raised in surrender, biceps bulging. Thick patches of fur sprouted deep in his armpits.

The same thick, dark, curly hair trailed from his navel, and fanned down to his groin, where a large, uncut cock lay over his pendulous balls. 

Thick, muscled legs completed the package, and Derek noted that the guy was barefoot. He winced, internally, thinking how much it must hurt, walking the sun baked floor, with the twigs underfoot.

"As you can see," the boy walked forward, "I'm not armed."

He turned around, showing off his rippling back muscles, and plump, pert ass. 

He completed his rotation, and laced his fingers behind his head. 

Derek may or may not have licked his lips.

"Why... Why are you... public property?" 

Derek kept his weapon up, aimed at this naked nymph of the woods. 

"And ah, why are you... naked?" 

"Just out for a walk, Deputy Hale." The boy grinned.

"And it was such a nice day, I decided to just... go natural."

The dark skinned boy lowered his arms, walking toward Derek.

"I guess, I jut walked too far. Went where I shouldn't have gone."

His brown puppy dog eyes searched the deputy's olive eyes, made brighter and sparkly in the sun. 

"Have you ever done that, Deputy?" 

The boys voice was lower now.

"Gone places you shouldn't have gone? Done things you shouldn't have done?"

Derek kept his eyes on the boy. He was sure he was in high school. Hadn't he been in the precinct before?

The boy was close now. So close he could feel the boy's cock brushing his leg.

He smelled of summer, sweat, and something else...

"Daddy..." 

 

A loud growl sounded from behind Derek.

He spun around with his gun drawn, shielding the naked boy with his body. 

A white wolf, fur raised in anger along its spine, stood snarling at the pair.

Before Derek could shoot, the wolf charged them, fast. Derek fired, but missed the wolf, and it took him a few seconds to realize the other boy had gone.

Where he ran to, a mystery. 

Derek shook himself sober, chasing after the sounds of a chase, where he was sure the wolf was going to kill the boy.

The sounds of the chase led him to where he thought it would, to the burned out skeleton of the Stilinski house. 

 

Derek was only 12 when the Stilinski house was burned to the ground. There were so many stories about what happened in the gossipy small town, that the truth was lost forever.

One story told of how John Stilinski, patriarch of the family, had caught his wife in bed with a lover, so he burned them alive, then threw himself into the flames, realizing too late he killed his own 10 year old son as well.

Another was that the old man had lost his wife and kid, and kept their bodies in the house, until madness overtook him, and he burned them all to ashes.

Whether it was insurance fraud, insanity, or asleep while smoking, Derek had heard them all. 

The remains of the house had been searched and the most disturbing thing had come out. Only the bodies of John and Claudia Stilinski were recovered. The body of their son, was never found.

 

Derek walked the perimeter of the grounds. Nothing there. No blood, no bones, no full white wolf digesting a teenager. 

The sun had crawled a bit lower, but it was still warm enough to break a sweat. Derek kept his weapon raised. He stalked around the area. 

Something kept drawing him back to the house. 

The ashes, long cold, and charred ruins were like a magnet. Derek made his way into a large hole in the side of the living room wall, where he crept through.

He moved as quietly as he could through the house. If the boy knew where he was, he knew this house was there. He could have come here.

Derek let his memory recall the excitement, and unsettling feeling in his gut as the naked teen approached him in the clearing. 

The feeling of his body, so close to his, and the closeness of...

Derek felt his heart beat double time. It wasn't from fear this time. 

The tired deputy sighed, and seated himself on the burned out staircase.

It would explain why none of his relationships with women never worked out.

 

Derek exited the Stilinski house, and half expected, or half hoped that the teen would be there. 

He was hoping for something. He looked back at the house. It created an amazing silhouette against the now setting sun. He let his eyes drift to the stairs leading up to the porch.

He froze.

From underneath the stairs, peering out from between the slats, were a pair of golden eyes. 

Derek felt his hand drift down to his gun, instinctively. 

The eyes disappeared into the darkness.

Derek kept his hand on his gun. 

He kept it on the gun until he made it back to his SUV. 

As he drove away, he swore he heard a wolf howling, mournfully.

 

Back at the precinct, Derek reported to his father, leaving out the naked teenager, and mentioning he shooed away some nosy kids. 

Sitting at his desk, he returned to the files he was updating. Out of curiosity, he typed in "Stilinski" into the search bar, and pressed enter.

"NO FILES FOUND"

Derek furrowed his brow. 

Odd.

Derek thought there would be something. Maybe it had been a mistake.

He typed the name in again, thinking maybe he had misspelled the name, and in the split second as he hit "enter", he saw he had misspelled on this one.

"Bilinski"

Crap.

Before he was able to type in the search a third time, the most extraordinary thing happened.

Several different files appeared, to his surprise. He opened the main file, which contained the information on the Stilinski family. 

Father, John Robert. Mother, Claudia Marie. Son... Derek's eyes crossed. They stared at the screen, trying to figure out how to pronounce that name.

"Mmmeeeeesss... MMmmmmmyyyyyyyyccchhhheeeee..." 

Derek closed his eyes, and pressed his fingertips to his eyelids. He sighed and turned to the window of his office, and stared out the window. 

The moon was rising, a beautiful crescent shape in the sky. Derek let his mind wander to the boy in the woods. 

The deep brown puppy eyes, and the crooked jaw. The way he smelled. The heat coming off his body. 

"McCall." 

The name snapped into his head from no where, and Derek minimized the folders he was going though and opened up a new search. 

Scott McCall. 

That's who was in the woods. 

Record: Trespassing, operating a motorized vehicle without a license. Causing disruption at school. 

Typical teenage shit. 

Sixteen. 

Derek felt horrible thinking the thoughts he had about the kid, but he sure as Hell didn't look sixteen.

He blamed the older looks and muscles on the growth hormones in chicken McNuggets.

Another thought popped into his head.

He'd be the same age as the Stilinski kid. 

Derek wondered if they went to school together. Maybe they had been friends.

He returned to the Stilinski file. 

Copying the name into Google, he searched the translation through a few pages, until he found what he was looking for.

Mieczyslaw. Slavic name, Polish origin. "Sword of Glory". 

He opened a smaller file attached, and paled.

"Stilinski, Mieczyslaw. Remains not found. Child missing. Presumed dead. Possibly living."

 

The next morning found Derek back in uniform, and back at his desk. 

"Deputy Hale?" 

Derek looked up to find Officer Jordan Parrish standing in front of him.

Parrish had joined the force a few months ago. Nice guy. Very cute.

Handsome. Not cute. 

Shit. 

"Yes Officer?"

"The Sheriff asked if you could go tend to this disturbance call, noise complaint."

Derek sighed, and headed to his vehicle.

 

He found himself in Portin, which the locals had nicknamed "Poor Town", in a cruel twist on the state of many of the people who resided there.

Exiting the vehicle, he could hear the loud music blaring from one of the houses. 

He knocked on the door a few times, to no avail. He walked around to the back, where a large lot of dirt and junk made something resembling a backyard.

"Beacon Hills P.D." He announced, over the blaring music. 

He looked around, and found the back door wide open. He looked around inside, and found the offending radio. He clicked it off and waited. 

The silence in the wake of the radio felt even louder. 

Derek looked around, trying to find someone. Surely this radio hadn't turned on by itself.

He moved toward the bathroom, the sink visible from the hallway. 

The doors in the house were wide open. Given the state of the home, and neighborhood, Derek wasn't sure if the occupants were messy, or if they had been robbed.

No pictures on the walls. Nothing that gave him a hint of who lived there. 

He moved to a bedroom. The room reeked of sweat and sex, and something else. 

Derek's head swam from the onslaught of odors, and what they did to his body. 

Keeping his ears open, he inched into the room, checking the spots where someone would hide.

Something caught his eye on the floor of the room.

He leaned down, and focused on the item.

A small toy wolf plush, the size of his palm was on the floor. It had seen better days, and looked like it had been...

"BURNING THE GROUND... LOST AND I'M FOUND...."

Derek jumped up and pulled his gun, spinning around the room. The music blared through the house again. Derek moved out into the hall.

He was spooked and no longer comfortable. He checked the rooms again. Empty. 

Derek turned the radio off again, pulling the plug from the wall. 

He headed out into the front yard, and got into his SUV. He was driving away when he realized that he was still holding the stuffed toy wolf.

 

Derek pulled into the driveway of Scott McCall's house. It was summer, and he suspected the boy would be home.

He rang the doorbell, and was not surprised to find Scott answering the door in a pair of loose gray pajama bottoms, under which he was not wearing underwear. He wore a loose, threadbare tank on his torso.

"Hi Deputy Hale." Scott's smile beamed. "Please, do come in." 

Derek kept his eyes above waist level, trying to ignore the swinging cock that pushed out the front of Scott's cotton bottoms. 

Scott showed Derek to the living room, and sat on the couch as Derek stood in the room. 

"What can I do for you today, Deputy Hale?" 

Scott leaned back, his arms behind his head, as he trained his eyes on the fine, fit form contained in the older man's uniform.

"Well, Scott, I was wondering if you know anything about one Mieczyslaw Stilinski."

Scott face first registered surprise, then disappointment. 

"We were friends. We grew up together. Until he died in the fire when he was ten."

Derek sighed.

"There has to be more than that."

Scott shrugged.

"We met when we were kids. None of the other kids at school wanted to be our friends, so we became each other's best friend."

Derek sat on the couch opposite Scott. 

"His mom and dad were nice. They were like a second family, especially when my dad wound up missing all my birthdays, and games, and shit like that."

Scott's position had changed. He was kneeling on the couch now. His tank pulled between his hands, which were in front of him. It showed off his chest to great advantage.

"Sometimes it sucks having a dad that's also the mayor of this shitty little town."

Derek looked down, ignoring the seductive postures the boy was showing. 

"Do you remember anything unusual in the days leading up to the fire?" Derek thought of his procedures.

"Anything that he said, anything that happened to him, or to his family before the fire happened?"

He could sense Scott getting up from the couch, and the movement as he walked forward to Derek.

"Do you know if the Stilinski's had any enemies? Any people that wanted to harm them, or possibly kidnap Mieczyslaw?"

"Stiles." 

Scott's voice was low, and he lowered himself to his knees in front of the Deputy, looking up and him with those deep, brown eyes.

"No one ever called him Mieczyslaw. Not even his parents. It was his dad's father's name. Everyone called him Stiles. It was a nickname, but it may as well been his real name."

Derek raised his head to look away from Scott, but Scott raised himself up to follow Derek's eyes.

"He used to call me Scotty." 

Derek felt the weight of the teenager on his lap. Scott straddled him, draping his arms over Derek's broad shoulders.

"No one calls me Scotty anymore. Not since my mom left. Not since my Daddy decided work was more important than me."

Derek stared into Scott's eyes, transfixed. 

Scott leaned in, his nose close to Derek's. The deputy placed his hands on the boy's chest, drawing them away as Scott moaned lustfully at the contact.

Derek moved his hands away as if they'd been burned, and moved to Scott's wrists, pulling the teens large hands from his place.

"Derek." Scott leaned in, breathlessly reciting the older man's name. "Derek. Derek. Derek. I miss him so much. I miss how he and I used to..." He bit his lip, and blushed, coquettishly. 

"Please." Scott gasped. "I'm so alone. So alone. I need you, Derek. I need you to touch me. Make me feel better."

Scott moved Derek's hands to his hips, grinding his own crotch into Derek in the process.

"No!" Derek stood from the couch, feeling Scott's legs lock around his waist.

"Please daddy." Scott leaned in, kissing Derek, who tried to pull away. Scott was strong. Stronger than a teenage boy should be.

Derek fell to the floor, with Scott tumbling off of him. 

Scrambling to his feet, Derek held his hands out. 

"Scott. Stop that! I'm not attracted to you." 

"Liar." Scott had a shit eating grin on his face, staring up at the older man.

"You are. I can smell it on you." 

Derek backed out of the living room, and moved to the door.

Scott was there in a second, pulling Derek's shoulder, turning him around. 

His eyes were wide, pupils blown. He looked like he might devour Derek. For a second he swore he saw the boy's eyes flash red.

Impossible.

Just a trick of the light coming in through the foyer windows.

They're brown. Just brown.

"Tell me, Deputy Hale. Wasn't there a moment, even one, where you wanted me? In the woods? Brushed up against you."

Scott was pressed up against the Deputy, his lips close to Derek's ear.

"Tell me, Derek. Do you want me?"

Derek's hand found the doorknob, and twisted, freeing himself from the aggressive teen.

He stumbled out into the daylight. Scott stood at the door. His soft cotton pants jutted out in front of him, obscenely.

"I'm sorry, if I gave you the wrong idea, Mr. McCall."

Derek spoke respectfully, but firmly.

"I don't have those kinds of feelings about you."

Scott's face twisted into a frown.

"Liar." He hissed.

"I'm sorry." He offered one more time, then turned around, and got into his vehicle.

 

Two days later, Derek was on a run. 

It was his day off, and he was running to clear his head, like he usually did. His normal run took his from his apartment in Beacon Heights, down to the waterfront in the old industrial area.

After, the run ran back up into the hills, around the perimeter of the preserve, finally culminating in the uphill mile back up into the heights.

Derek had completed the first leg of the run, impervious to any of the looks people in town gave him. 

Beacon Hills could be it's own nightmare of a city. The town was big enough to have the regular problems a larger city might have, in crime, and crazy occurrences.

It was also just small enough that people knew your business, and that bothered Derek to no end.

Sometimes it could be nice. When his mother passed away, the city seemed to rally around him. It could have been because his father was the Sheriff, but, who knew.

Now it was just Derek, his father, and his uncle Peter, his mother's youngest brother. Uncle Peter was also like Derek's best friend. 

Since he was only a few years older than his nephew, Peter was more like an older brother. It was Peter who had helped Derek get past him the loss of his mother.

However, Peter had not been the help that Derek needed to solve his Stiles problem. 

The run was helping somewhat. It was clearing his head, and that was something. 

Derek's run had skirted the last half mile of the preserve, and without thinking of it, found himself back at the ruins of the Stilinski house.

Staring at the remains of the former house, Derek felt like something was off. Something wasn't right. He stood in stillness, and tried to pick up on anything unusual.

He didn't have to wait long. 

A large brown wolf stalked out of the shadows formed by a copse of trees. The creatures brown eyes watched Derek intently. 

Derek felt naked. He had no gun, no weapons, and only a small stuffed wolf toy in his pocket. He had been carrying it around like a talisman the last few days.

Moving back toward the charred remains of the house. If he could just get into it...

The wolf charged, and snarled at the deputy, leaping onto the porch, stalking after Derek. The large brown wolf jumped, and Derek moved as quick as he could, leaping over the porch railing.

He fell a few feet to the lawn below, eyeing the trees in the distance. If he could just get to them... 

Did wolves climb trees? No matter, Derek was desperate. 

So of course, with the wolf on his tail, he tripped, and fell. He turned to see his death approaching, when suddenly, white lightning struck.

A large, lean, white wolf charged the wolf from the woods, colliding with the brown wolf. For several moments, the only sounds were snarls, and yelps as the wolves fought.

The brown wolf beat a hasty retreat, as the white wolf snarled and snapped after him. 

Derek may or may not have let out a cry of relief, which he cursed, when the white wolf turned, and approached him. 

The wolf was magnificent. His fur was ivory white, and his snout was dotted with black spots in his fur. Some other spots appeared to dot the wolf's neck as well. 

What transfixed Derek was the eyes. The wolf's eyes were amber, and sparkled with intelligence. 

The eyes stared down at Derek now. The wolf had advanced to Derek, but Derek wasn't afraid.

Okay, he was afraid. Terrified, actually. Not piss-your-pants terrified, but it could get there if he wasn't careful.

Derek realized this was likely the same wolf that had tried to attack him and Scott in the woods not long ago.

Laying on his back, Derek tried to remember anything he learned about wolves. He did the only thing he could. He turned his head, baring his neck.

The white wolf grumbled, deep in its chest. Its snout grazed Derek's neck, snuffling and huffing, sounding almost pleased. 

Derek closed his eyes, and waited for the wolf to end him. 

It never came. The wolf was getting lower, and his snout dug into Derek's pockets, alarming the man for a moment. 

The wolf dug out the stuffed toy wolf, holding it gently in its teeth. 

Derek slowly, carefully sat up, and watched in awe as the wolf stared at him. The wolf lowered his head, and bumped gently into Derek. 

Then, the wolf turned around, and disappeared back into the woods, from where he came. 

 

"That's impossible." Peter shook his head, setting a bowl of soup in front of Derek. 

"It happened." 

Peter shook his head again, and leaned against the counter. 

"Wolves haven't been seen in Beacon Hills since I was a boy." 

Peter pulled two plates from the cupboard above the sink, and plated the sandwiches he made for lunch.

"And when they were seen, they weren't seen long after." 

He set the sandwiches down, and sipped his iced coffee. 

"And to see TWO wolves, all of a sudden. That seems strange." 

Derek shook his head. "I know, but it, that white wolf saved me. Maybe it was tamed? Like, it escaped a circus or something? A petting zoo?"

Peter gave Derek an incredulous look. 

"I think you need a nap, kid." 

Derek smiled softly as he closed his eyes.

Since his mother's death, his uncle had stepped in, being both a fatherly presence, and something of a mother figure as well. 

That Peter was gay never bothered Derek. Not that he felt he COULD talk to his uncle.

Sheriff Hale tolerated his younger brother in law, and had done so only at the request of his late wife. At her passing, she asked that he watch over him, after her death.

Seeing how attached Derek was to his uncle, the Sheriff felt obligated to comply.

With an attitude like that, Derek KNEW he wasn't going to take up the matter of his newly awakened sexual fantasies involving Officer Parrish, and, he hated to admit it, the young Mr. McCall.

Even if Peter would understand. Derek didn't want to risk his dad finding out.

He wished his mother was still alive.

 

It was early morning, just after sunrise, and Derek was in the preserve again. His shift started in a few hours, and despite his intentions, he was worried he was doing something wrong.

He sat in the shade of the trees, on the outskirts of the Stilinski ruins, Derek waited, patiently. 

He watched the world go by, the animals of the woods well on their way. Squirrels darted back and forth. A rabbit poked his head out of the burrow, pink nose twitching.

Derek stared at the animal, who regarded him as an intruder. "Who are you to be here?" The rabbit glared accusingly. 

It was when he was staring the creature down, that the wolf came. Ivory fur almost glaring in the morning sun, disapproving scowl etched on his face.

Face? Snout. Was the wolf glaring? Derek was shaken from his thoughts by the low growl coming from his new friend.

Derek reached into his bag, pausing as the wolf snarled at him, barking a warning. Derek paused, and moved slowly, bringing out his gift.

He carefully held it out, eyes cast down. He remembered his reading, "Do not look the animal in the eye, he will feel challenged by you." 

The wolf's snarl ceased, as the smells reached him, Derek finished unwrapping his offering.

A huge breakfast burrito. 

It was a strange offering. Derek didn't want to bring him dog food. It felt insulting, undignified even. 

The wolf growled, and then whimpered. Almost keening at the scents of bacon, sausage, and ham, with potatoes, and egg. 

Derek kept his eyes down, holding the meal out to his champion. The wolf looked at him, exhaling, and blasting Derek's hands with warm breath.

It took Derek a minute, then he placed the burrito on the ground, using the paper wrapper as a makeshift platter. 

The wolf tore into the burrito, lustily devouring it, and licking its chops.

Derek wasn't fluent in wolf, but for a moment, he thought he saw the wolf give a grin. 

 

Once the wolf had licked his paper clean, he walked over to Derek, who had remained seated the whole time.

They stared at each other for a moment, human to wolf. 

Derek was once again captured by the eyes, amber and honey and flecks of chocolate, with obsidian glimmer ringing the irises. 

He know his own eyes looked plain by comparison, olive green, sometimes looked blue-green. 

Derek hated the way he looked. He hated his smile, that his two front teeth bunched up and looked like a bunny's grin. 

He had a somewhat awkward puberty phase, and he never felt like he grew into his looks. 

Still, his body was decent. Not that he ever showed it off, preferring to layer his clothes to hide his muscular frame.

The wolf seemed to be regarding him, and after sniffing Derek's mouth, he gave it a quick lick. 

Derek should have felt grossed out, but it felt, well, kind of adorable. 

The wolf sniffed him in other parts of his body, then rubbed his snout on Derek's hand. Derek cautiously raised his hand, and gently rubbed the wolf's head, scratching behind his ears.

Seeing the sun had risen further, Derek carefully stood, keeping his eyes off the wolf's and started to retreat. 

As he walked away, he hear a whimper.

He turned to find the wolf staring at him, head cocked to the side.

"I'm sorry little guy, I gotta be at work soon." 

The wolf trotted over to him, and sniffed his hand before giving it a few licks, then a gentle bite. 

Derek scratched the wolf's ears again, and spoke to him.

"I'll come back again soon. k?" 

The wolf whined, and Derek walked away.

He was at his car when the thought struck him. He was talking to the wolf like it understood him. 

The only thing that was stranger was, he thought the wolf understood him, perfectly.

 

Changing in the locker room of the precinct, Derek keeps his eyes on the ground. No staring, no questions. Same as in the lockers in high school. Same as during training.

The less eye contact he made there was less chance of the guys...

"Deputy Hale." 

"Good Morning Officer Parrish." 

Derek kept his eyes on his shoes as he tied them. Jordan Parrish opened his locker, and stripped down, before putting on his uniform.

"Ready for the day, boss?" 

Derek shook his head. 

"You're never ready, it's just your turn." 

The younger guy laughed, and tucked in his shirt, covering his insanely ripped body. Derek took a breath.

"I'm enough. I'm enough. I'm enough." 

The words echoed through his head. 

It was something his therapist had suggested he repeat whenever he had an overwhelming moment. 

Kate had really done a number on his self esteem. 

"Sorry?" 

Derek realized Parrish had been talking to him, and he hadn't heard a word. 

"I said..." Parrish closed his locker door, and finished securing his gear. "I'm always here, if you need to talk about anything."

Derek felt a heat creep into his cheeks. 

"Uh... thank you... I will... I will."

 

Derek was back in the preserve. He was on his run again, and again, found himself sidetracked by the idea of running into his wolf.

His wolf.

What an absurd thought. The wolf wasn't his, no one owns a wild wolf. He scolded himself, and turned to cut through the preserve again.

He stopped in his tracks, coming along to a mass of... something... 

It looked like a skinned, half eaten carcass. A rabbit, or possum maybe. Derek stood in disgust. He started to crouch by it, when a loud zipping noise caught his ear.

A large, heavy looking arrow embedded itself in a tree, mere inches from the deputy's face. He stumbled backward, caught off guard. 

"I missed, or purpose, you know." 

An older weathered voice spoke from above him. It came from an older man, not fit, not fat, but active looking, with snow white hair, and a deeply lined face.

"Sir, I'll have you know that it is illegal to hunt in this preserve, it is...."

"Private property, yes." The old man finished, sounding smug. "I'm here because I'm told you have a wildlife problem."

Derek looked at the man skeptically. 

"A wildlife problem?" 

The older man grinned and nodded. 

"I'm sure you've seen them. Feral wolves."

Derek shook his head. 

"I... don't..." 

"You look like a smart young man." The older man began to walk away. "The kind that looks like he knows to stay away from big, bad, wolves."

Derek felt like the man had his number. He began to sweat.

"I'm here, as an invited guest of the mayor. So it would be wise of you, and your father, and your precinct, to stay out of my way."

Derek rose carefully. 

He ran out of the woods, staying clear of the ruins.

 

"You're in a particularly good mood." 

Derek had only seen his uncle this happy on a few occasions, and each occasion involved a man. Granted, this only happened a few times in the last 10 years, so Derek remembered.

It made him happy to know his uncle was living something approximating happiness. 

"I'm just in a good mood." Peter grinned. "No particular reason." 

Derek's raised eyebrow sent a accusatory sentence without saying a word. 

"No, it is not because of anyone." Peter smirked. "Tuck your brows back in, before they fly off of your face."

The door opened, and the Sheriff came in, sighing.

"Well, thank God. I am starving. This day turned to shit very quickly."

Peter greeted his brother in law with a cold beer, and took his jacket from off of the floor where the sheriff dropped it. 

"First, the damn coffee machine goes on the fucking blitz, then this damn old sunovabitch comes in, and starts going on about how he's gonna be hunting wolves..."

Derek crept into the kitchen, keeping an ear open for his father's talk of the day, and helping his uncle finish dinner.

He old man was still talking when they set the table, and his meal in front of him. 

"And I checked with the mayor, and yeah, some kind of wilderness bullshit. I didn't even know there WERE wolves in Beacon Hills anymore."

"I didn't know there were any before." Derek asked, suddenly not feeling hungry.

"There were, off and on, for a while. Then after the Stilinski house burned down, they all kinda disappeared."

Derek paused, and asked casually.

"Whatever happened that night?" 

"Nothing, eat your dinner." The sheriff cut him off quickly, and his uncle stuffed a spoonful into his mouth.

"And stay out of those damn woods." He added, almost as an afterthought.

 

Derek could not, would not, stay out of the woods. A week later, he was back in the woods, on another run. A few days prior, he had been there, bringing his wolf breakfast.

The ivory beast seemed to anticipate him, but ate nervously, leaving more than half the burrito behind. 

Derek understood, somehow. 

"He knows. He knows the old man is here." 

Derek rubbed the wolf's back, taking a moment to scratch the little patch of black just above his tail. The wolf liked that. He even wagged his tail.

"Stay safe, little guy." Derek whispered, as he rose to leave, after the wolf licked his face, and neck, as had been its wont to do lately.

Derek was almost out of the clearing when a form stepped out from behind the trees.

He skidded to a stop to avoid crashing, but the teen stood his ground, catching Derek before he fell.

"Gotta be careful in these woods, man." 

Derek caught his balance, and leaned against the tree. 

"You smell like shit." 

Scott wrinkled his nose, looking cuter than he had any right. 

Still shirtless, but wearing shorts this time, he carried himself cockily.

Derek paused as Scott wiped the sweat from his brow, and let his other hand caress his neck.

"I've... I've been running." Derek mumbled numbly, as Scott's hands caressed his brow, and neck.

"We... we shouldn't be here... doing this..." 

"Okay." Scott's grin was goofy, and seductive.

"Back to my place then?"

Scott let his hands trail up an down Derek's sweaty, tank clad torso.

"I'll give you a good scrubbing. Clean off all your dirty parts." 

Derek felt his eyes grow heavy with lust as Scott grazed his nipples.

"Then, I can rub you down, everywhere you... are... hard..." Scott emphasized the last words with little nips to the older man's neck.

"Stop it." Derek growled, fighting his lust.

"Scott... UGH... STOP!" 

Scott pulled back at the yell, and slammed Derek against the tree. He was much stronger than he looked, and with all the muscles, he looked strong.

Derek hated the way he ogled the boy's physique. The heaving pecs, crowned with two quarter sized brown nipples. His veiny, muscled arms. A new tattoo... 

It looked somehow familiar...

"Just let me have you... please..." Scott's voice was soft, begging. 

"I... I... I know you're a rich boy, and you can get anything you want... anyone you want..."

Derek moved Scott's hands away, watching as the boy pouted.

"Why me? Why do you want me so badly?"

A growl from the treeline answered. 

The wolf was back, and Scott turned. He pressed his back against Derek, rubbing against the older man, suggestively.

"Come and get me."

Scott ran off into the woods, with the wolf following at a quick clip. Derek ran after both, in a panic, not sure which he was more terrified of getting harmed.

Two loud booms stopped him in his tracks.

Standing in the clearing, a rifle pointed at his chest, was the old man.

"An awfully ODD thing, isn't it? A human chasing a wolf? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

Derek frowned. 

"The wolf was chasing after a boy." 

"Nonsense." The old man snarled back.

"That spotted white wolf was chasing a striped brown wolf, and they've already gone."

Derek tried hard not to sigh in relief.

"Funny, I always seem to find you here. Deputy Hale." 

The old man lowered his gun.

"What is it you do out here? Hunt wolves? Hunt mysteries? Hunt men?"

An evil, disgusted sneer stretched the hunter's lips.

"Are you one of those fags that trolls the woods, looking for little kids to molest?" 

An angry look came over Derek's face.

"No. Such. Thing." He gritted out.

"I'm here because I'm a protector of these woods, of this town. I am one of Beacon Hill's finest, here to protect and serve. Legally." 

The old man smirked.

"Best to keep out of my way. I'm here to handle a problem."

He set his rifle over his shoulders, and hung his arms off of it.

"But I have no problem eliminating ANY vermin, that gets in my way."

He turned around, and disappeared into the treeline.

 

Derek lay in his bed, twisting, and delirious from his fever. Hours after his run in with the hunter in the woods, Derek's time was a blur.

Now, he lay in bed, half out of his mind on cold medicine. 

His thoughts were swirling for the past few hours. Then he came down with a sore throat, then a fever, and then sour stomach.

Uncle Peter kept watch over Derek, spooning broth into him, and giving him fluids to replace what he lost sweating.

Because he kept throwing up, Derek couldn't keep medicine down. So he wasn't able to get better.

Soon, the stomach flu left, and Derek contended with the fever. 

He took a boiling hot shower, and changed clothes for the fifth time that night.

Peter had changed his sheets again, and cleaned most of the room, and left the window open. 

Derek slipped between the crisp, new sheets, and chugged half the medicine bottle. 

 

Sleep came quickly.

 

The dreams were disturbing. Derek was being hunted. He saw Kate, all auburn hair, and menace. She was chasing him with a bow and arrow.

Derek was not Derek, but a large black wolf. He was running, not away from Kate, but TO something else. Someone else.

Voices boomed around them.

Then fire. 

The wolf was running to him, white fur gleaming with hope. 

"Run!" 

The voice wasn't Kate's. It wasn't the old man. It wasn't even Derek's own.

"Run!" 

It was the wolf. 

Derek thrashed in his bed, sobbing, angry.

Colors were intense, and images were out of focus.

"Since when were there wolves?" Someone asked from the dark corner of his room.

"I remember hearing tales." 

"Shut up and eat your dinner." 

"You think they know?"

"Daddy.... please...."

"Why do you want me?" 

"Run."

Derek closed his eyes.

He felt tears, hot and thick, behind his eyelids. 

 

He heard the noise from his window.

Derek stared, eyes dry. How many hours had passed? His body felt heavy. Still asleep.

A boy stood in the window.

His skin was pale, delicate looking in the night. He wore a pair of white shorts, and no shirt. His lean, toned body was beautiful.

Derek was dreaming. No one this perfect looking existed.

The boy advanced, his movements cautious. As he approached, Derek could see his torso was dotted in cute moles.

He watched as the boy walked around the room, his graceful hands and fingers gliding over surfaces, touching Derek's belongings.

"Beauty Marks." he remembered, his mother's voice used to call them...

They went up the boys' neck, which Derek could see closer now, because the boy was kneeling over his bed. 

Derek tried to sit up, but felt the boys' hand, large, warm hand, pressed to his chest, right on the bullseye of the shirt he wore.

"Here, I got this for you, Der." 

His uncle had been in London, and had brought him the tee as a souvenir. It had a blue and white target, with a red center.

He was lying in bed, the young man hovering over him, a knee on either side of his hips. 

Derek was fixed on the boys' eyes, glittering in the dark.

Amber. Honey. Onyx.

The pale creature leaned down, and kissed him.

"There was a tale, an old wives tale..."

The kiss felt perfect.

"I guess you could call it an old 'wolves' tale..." Danny laughed.

The hands at the side of Derek's face, gently being held.

"Well, it was believed that werewolves, being supernatural creatures, had amazing powers."

Derek kissed him back, feeling his tongue caress that of his dream lover.

"They could take someone's pain. Like, if you had a broken bone, they couldn't heal the broken bone, but they could take the agony of it away."

The boy's hands moved down, under Derek's shirt.

"You're so full of shit, Mahealani." 

Derek felt a warm peace flooding his body. He fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

In his dream, he felt himself holding a large stuffed animal, that somehow breathed.

 

The next morning, Derek woke up, fine, and refreshed. 

His body ached slightly. Still, when he stood, and stretched, he could feel the improvement. 

He must have taken his shirt off at some point. He searched his floor to see where he had thrown it in sleep.

Derek's eyes pinned themselves to one spot in his room, where he spied a pair of white shorts. 

He felt his heart vault into his throat. 

Derek didn't own any white shorts. These, were also about three sizes too small.

Derek hid the shorts, left his room, and found a note from Peter on the table.

"Went out to visit a friend. Hydrate. You're still not well. Back in a bit.

 

The knock on his front door startled him, and opening the door, Derek felt all the blood drain from his body.

"What's a kid gotta do to get arrested around here?"

Scott stood in the doorway to the Hale house. He leaned against the door frame of the modest home.

"I mean, you're really making me work for it. Not that I mind. I like a chase."

Derek huffed, and shook his head. 

"You're too young, kid." He emphasized the last word.

"I bet you'd feel differently, if I were someone else."

Scott walked away from Derek, and headed down the hall to the Deputy's bedroom. 

Derek followed behind.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're trespassing..."

"You opened your door to me, and didn't tell me I wasn't allowed in."

Scott grinned, as he opened the door.

He winced, as he took in the smell of the room.

Scott entered the room, Derek on his tail. 

"You've been sick, recently?" 

Derek nodded. His room still smelled of...

Uh oh.

Scott had walked over to the window, where he pulled a pair of small white shorts from the bottom of the laundry pile.

"Please don't go through my..."

Scott moved and pinned Derek to the wall. He kissed him, but it was angry, possessive.

"Wolfsbane." 

Scott whispered so softly, Derek wasn't sure he heard it.

"What?"

Scott pulled Derek over by the bed.

Derek stood frozen, as Scott's body pressed against him. 

"No. Stop." He warned the younger guy. 

"Why, Derek?" Scott asked, desperately. "I'm so hot for you. I need you."

The boy turned around, his shorts riding low on his hips, slipping down low enough to show the tanned globes of his perfect ass.

"Please Derek..." Scott whined. "I need it." He sat Derek on the bed, and bit his lip.

Those damn puppy eyes.

Scott pulled his shirt off, and shimmied out of his shorts.

"I wanna be your pup, sir. I'll do anything..." 

Scott rubbed his face in Derek's crotch, getting him hard. Smelling his arousal.

"Anything..." 

"Sc...Scotty..." 

"Yes Sir.... I'll do anything you want to, Sir. Just... please... don't hurt me..."

Scott's tone had changed abruptly.

"Scott?!" 

Derek's eyes snapped open, to find his uncle standing in the doorway. His uncle's face was a mask of pain and horror.

"Derek?! How could you.... with my.... with him..." 

Derek gasped, realizing that he was hard as a rock, with a naked sixteen year old at his feet.

"Pe...Peter... oh shit... this... isn't what it looks like!"

Peter had already run from the house, sobbing.

Derek stood in the doorway, and cried.

Scott stood behind him.

"Oh well. Guess we're even."

Derek spun around, swinging his fist. 

Scott caught it mid swing, and twisted it, bringing Derek to his knees.

"WAY too strong for a teenager." Derek thought again.

Then, the most unexpected thing.

Red eyes.

Red. Fucking. Eyes.

"No. No."

Scott smiled.

"I guess if we really want to be even, then I have to do something about your little guy in the woods."

Scott slammed his head into Derek's and the older man blacked out.

 

It could have been minutes, or hours. 

No police at his house. No Peter anywhere. No answer on his cell phone. Derek grabbed his pants, a gun, and two clips, and ran for the preserve.

He drove into, then parked where the treeline met the street, near the Stilinski house, and ran for the remains.

Derek looked around, hoping to see that white wolf. He knew now. It started to make sense. Kind of.

He got into the house, hoping to find the boy there. That's when it happened.

 

Derek turned to see the brown wolf, snarl on his snout. He advanced slowly, his arms moving before him. Derek noted the stripes on his left arm. Two lines.

Like a tattoo.

No. No. No. There was no way. 

"Impossible." 

The wolf sneered, it almost appeared to be laughing. 

Dead.

"I'm dead." Derek thought, as three more wolves entered the remains of what was once the large living room.

A black wolf had him cornered on his left, a golden wolf on his right. A copper-blonde wolf with bright blue eyes was advancing on Derek's rear, and snarling worse than the others.

"I'm dead."

Derek felt, before he heard, the snarl.

Standing at the top of the stairs that lead up to the second level, was his wolf.

His white wolf. With a dotted snout. 

And he flew down the stairs, landing in front of Derek.

The wolves changed their focus, targeting the white wolf. 

Without hesitation, the white wolf attacked the copper-blonde, and went for the jugular, and slashed his underbelly.

The injured wolf ran for the brown one, crying, howling, as he fled. 

Derek ran for his wolf, standing in front as the black and blonde wolves charged, only to be felled by arrows.

Looking up, Derek saw the old man.

"Out of the way, Hale. I intend to put that wolf down for good."

The old man was licking his lips, mad fervor in his eyes.

"Gonna make the whole thing right. Gonna fix it ALL."

Derek crouched in front where the wolf was cowering.

"He knows. He knows death is coming." The old man continued.

"Gonna skin him alive... Gonna stick myyyaaaaaahhhhhhh!" 

The brown wolf had returned, and crept up on the older man, slashing at his leg with lethal looking claws.

The old man turned as the wolf ran away, firing a gun at him, and hobbling.

"Run!" Derek turned to the white wolf.

"Run, Stiles! Hide!"

The wolf looked at Derek. His amber eyes panicked. 

"Run, and I'll come find you."

Derek felt a bullet graze his hip, and the white wolf snarled, and charged.

"NO!" 

Derek reached for his gun, and shot at the old man, who swung around, throwing a knife at Derek's head. 

The deputy ducked, and the knife missed.

Unfortunately, Stiles was in trouble. 

Derek heard a sound like a knife stabbing a melon, and heard a whine that almost sounded like a boy's scream of pain. 

He turned to see his white wolf on the floor, a silver arrow sticking out of his thigh.

"Almost done..." 

Derek reached for his gun, and emptied the clip on the old man, who had run behind a pillar.

The wolf was gone. 

Derek popped his clip and reloaded, and crept to the pillar. 

The old man was gone. 

Derek looked around, and realized he was fucked. 

No radio to call for back up. Only one weapon, one clip, one...

The sound of gunfire. Not far. Maybe he found Scott. Scott!

Derek tried to move quietly to where he heard the gunfire.

An arrow sliced through the darkness, finding a home in his shoulder. 

Derek ran.

He found a door, and ran for it. 

Another arrow, this one found Derek's thigh. 

Derek grunted, and slammed into the door, which swung open easily. 

Slamming his body against it, he was able to brace it with a deadbolt on the door.

Derek ducked as bullets slammed into the door.

"OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR OR I WILL MAKE THE SUFFERING GREATER!" 

Derek backed away, stumbling down the stairs.

 

He found the boy, cowering in the corner under the stairs. His pale skin looked ghostly white. 

The moles on his body stood out in contrast. 

His eyes were awash in tears, as he looked up at Derek.

Seeing the arrow sticking out of the Deputy's leg, he sobbed and whimpered.

Derek looked at the sobbing naked boy, an arrow was lodged in his leg, another in his shoulder, A mirror of his own pain.

"Stiles." 

The boy looked up, and nodded.

"He did it... He killed them..." 

Stiles started to sob...

"I'm next... I'm next..." 

Derek crouched down and pulled the boy into his arms.

"Fuck!" he growled.

His gun was missing.

Derek felt the tears come too quickly.

"It'll be okay, Mieczyslaw." 

Stiles sobbed harder in Derek's arms.

"Shhh..." The deputy rocked the younger boy in his arms, soothing him. 

He looked at the arrows. The one in Stiles' leg may have struck a vein. There was a lot of blood underneath him.

The shoulder one might be able to be removed...

"Faggots." 

A voice growled, as it approached them.

"It's gonna be a cold day in Hell before Gerard Argent allows this to happen in his home again."

 

Two more arrows flew, once found Derek's arm, the other his stomach.

"STOP!" 

Stiles sobbed from behind Derek, where he was being held in place by Derek's left hand.

Gerard approached the cowering boy, and his protector. Derek was losing blood. He didn't care. He could never leave Stiles.

He could feel Stiles' head on his neck. 

The feeling of attachment. A good kind of numb. Stiles was taking his pain. It hadn't been a dream.

"Grandpa... please.... I... love him..." 

"Can't you be a fucking man? No, guess you can't." Gerard snarled at the boy.

"If you WERE, then maybe you could have taken me out before I killed your parents."

Derek felt a rage boil inside of him, but he was too weak...

"I'll not have your perversion ruin my family line. Not my daughter. Not my grandson. Not ANYONE in MY family."

Derek looked up at the old man. He felt such disgust, yet all he could get out was...

"No."

Stiles looked up, at the man who once fed him bottles, rocked him to sleep. Played catch with him. Bought him his first bike for Christmas.

Was pointing a silver arrow right at his head. Inches away from death.

"Say goodbye you sniveling coward."

Derek watched, expecting his world to be shattered.

Not expecting to see Gerard Argent's head explode.

Not expecting to see his Uncle Peter standing behind the old man, with aDerek's gun, smoking in his hand.

 

Derek awoke in a hospital. 

His uncle was sitting next to his bed, sobbing quietly. Peter had never looked older, and never looked so pained. It was too much, and Derek allowed himself to go back under.

 

When he woke later, Officer Parrish was standing next to his bed, holding his hand. 

"....so sorry... jut know that everyone in the force is behind you, and when you want to come back, if you ever want to, then there's always a place...."

 

In the middle of the night, he had a visitor he hoped wasn't an illusion.

"I'm sorry you got into all of this. I never meant to hurt you. I'll never forget you saved me. I... I love you...always."

Derek struggled to raise himself from his bed, to hold Stiles, to protect him...

The room was flooded with lights and nurses.

Stiles was nowhere in the room.

"CODE RED! CODE RED! I NEED A CRASH CART IN HERE STAT!!"

 

Derek opened his eyes. 

The hospital room was empty. 

A bunch of flowers sat on his bedside table. 

"Thank you for your service. Mayor R. McCall."

Another bunch were roses. 

"Thank you." 

There was no name, but Derek liked to think they came from his white wolf.

Another bunch of flowers, white lilies, sat on the table behind those.

"Our Condolences to you...." 

Tears filled Derek's eyes, and he screamed loud enough to raise the dead.

 

Peter sat on the bed, holding his nephew to him, much the same way he did when the boy's mother died.

"I called your Dad, the minute I found out where you had gone. Scott came and found me, and even though I was heartbroken, I felt I could believe him."

Derek stared blankly into nothingness as his uncle continued.

"I phoned your father immediately, and he was closer to the place, so he went there first."

He heard his uncle's voice hitch with emotion.

"Argent was there, he got the jump on your dad. He gunned your father down before he had time to get to the house. Your father died at the scene, in the line of duty."

Tears leaked out of Derek's eyes.

"Scott joined me, and let me know where you guys were. He's.... well, you know what he is... so he could hear you, getting shot..."

Peter stopped, choking back his tears.

"He wanted to go in, to help, but I told him to stay back, in case anything happened, he could get help..."

Derek felt himself ache in the memory.

"The old man had you cornered. He was locked on Stiles, mumbling something about sin, and bloodlines, quoting bible verses..."

Peter shook his head.

"I shot him." The confession was a whisper, only Derek could hear.

"God forgive me, I did it to save you, and Stiles."

Derek grabbed his uncle's arm, closed his eyes and began to cry.

"Then after Scott and I pulled you out, we set the place on fire, again. I'd do it again. Without a second thought."

"What...what happened to Stiles?" 

Derek's voice was weak from disuse, then the epic, banshee like scream. 

Peter rubbed Derek's back.

"He won't say. Scott tells me he's fine. I have no choice but to believe him."

 

Weeks later, Derek was back in Portin. 

He went right to the house he knew, and was not surprised to find Stiles in the bedroom. 

Clutching the stuffed wolf toy, he stared down, almost angry.

"They said... they said I wasn't going to be like them. That it... skipped a generation."

His young voice sounded so hard, and angry.

"That I was going to have a normal life. That I was gonna be....safe...."

Stiles sobbed the last word. 

"I was supposed to be SAFE!" 

Derek went to the boy, taking him in his arms. Stiles sobbed into Derek's shirt.

"I was gonna have a normal life... I'm not normal...." 

Derek rocked the boy slowly. Comforting him, best he could.

"When it happened, Grandpa came in, and... he killed mom and dad first..."

Stiles gripped the wolf.

"He said... we were a curse. Unholy. Killers. He said mom begged him to spare me. She did. I heard her."

Stiles gripped the wolf, even as his ears went pointed, and his claws grew.

"She begged for my life Derek. And before she died...I heard her tell me... to run."

Stiles paused for several minutes He stared at the wolf toy, and took several breaths.

His claws retreated, and his ears reformed.

"I ran. I ran to Scott, and he tried to help me. Scotty was a wolf too, but his dad... his dad was protecting him."

Derek stroked Stiles' buzzed hair.

"To cover the murder, Grandpa made it look like an accident. That I was responsible for the fire, that I killed my parents."

Derek closed his eyes at the man's cruelty.

"I ran, and hid. Scott tried to help. He got me this place, but I couldn't stay away from the preserve. That's my home."

The teen paused.

"Was. Was my home."

"I don't... I can't stay here."

"Stay with me." 

The words were out of Derek's mouth before he could stop them.

"I'd do anything to protect you, Stiles."

Stiles closed his eyes, and leaned into Derek.

From the moment Stiles saw him in the preserve, he knew. Knew in his heart that Derek was his own. The way that some people are lucky enough to find their missing half Stiles knew he found his. It was easy.

Derek smelled like home.

 

It took some doing. 

Scott had to arrange a tiny bit of blackmail, concerning his father. 

To keep his position as mayor, and the secret of his son, he agreed to arrange for the legal guardianship of one Stiles Stilinski to one Derek Hale.

Until such time as Stiles was 18, and his own legal person, and had access to his family fortune, which included both his family, and his grandfather's estates.

Scott also got his dad to look the other way when it came to Scott's other proclivities. 

Derek agreed to expunge Scott's record.

Derek had to know why, WHY Scott had been so insistent. Stiles explained that Scott had been jealous of him all his life. Scott had money, but Stiles had love, and happiness. Scott hated that. So once Scott found out about Stiles' crush on Derek, Scott wanted him too. But after everything, Scott agreed to lay off the come ons. Besides, he had a new toy to play with now.

In the following months, Derek got used to his new appointment as the town Sheriff, with one Jordan Parrish as his deputy. 

 

For the next few years, Beacon Hills was blissfully quiet.


End file.
